Hunter (The Fractured Fairytale Series)

by J. A. Wynters

  “Did you tell her how you feel?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That you love her.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Hunter.” She slices through my words.

  “Red.” I taunt.

  “Just admit it.”

  I sigh. I never told her, but maybe it's because until this very minute I wasn’t even sure that this is what this is. Fuck.

  “No, I didn’t tell her,” I blow out a breath, “not that it matters. I blew it. I thought I’d be happier if I just let it run its course and end.”

  “Happier or safer?”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  Red looks at me, her eyes locked on mine, “I know you had it hardest. I know that everyone left you—mom, dad, me…” Her mouth twists a little, “But you’ve missed out on enough, given up enough. You’ve always had to be the one that’s reliable and strong, a permanent fixture that fixes everything for everyone. It’s your turn. Stop hiding, stop thinking that you are not worth being loved, of holding someone's attention so completely that you’re the centre of their world.”

  “Red—”

  “No. It’s not too late. You’ve kept yourself safe for too long, now you need to be happy. Why do you need a safety net if you’re never going to take a risk?”

  “Red—”

  “If you don't tell her, then one day someone else will.”

  The thought of another man touching Emily, instantly steels my armour. “I think she may be pregnant.”

  Red’s eyes light up and the tightening around her eyes fills the silent room like a speech. “You’re not sure?”

  “I might have said something awful before she up and left…”

  Red squared her back and glares at me, “What the fuck did you say, Hunter?”

  “I might have said something along the lines of kids are a trap…” I don’t get to finish my sentence. Red stands up and her hand swings towards my head. I catch it before it connects and she snatches it away burning me with an irate look.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I didn’t know...”

  “It’s not the point!”

  “I know. I know! I stuffed up, she’s gone, and I fucking miss her. It’s eating me up.”

  Red smiles at me, and her face beams again, “Good. Now go get her.”

  I rake my fingers through my hair dragging them along my scalp. “I can't, she’s gone.”

  “Find her.”

  “You think I haven’t been looking? I can’t find her.”

  “Look harder.”

  I nod and sink into the couch, defeat weighing heavily on my shoulders. Red slides next to me, a hug from her would make me feel better. But before I can react, she swings at me again and hits me around the head. I guess I better look harder.

  I hang around for a while longer, Red shows me pictures of her time away with Wolf and talks about her artwork. I want to be more interested but my mind keeps wandering and my body keeps craving till my skin feels like it’s crawling.

  I hug my sister and she promises we’ll catch up soon. At least she’s forgiven me and I have her back on my side again. Sometimes doing what we think is the right thing isn’t actually the right thing. I think we’ve both learned that lesson.

  As I walk towards my car, Wolf pulls up and blocks my way.

  “Look what the cat dragged in.” He opens the door and swaggers towards me, a smirk on his face.

  “Red seems to think my cat is dead.”

  “Explains the smell.”

  “That would be your scented candles all over the bath. You’ve gone soft.”

  “Your sister doesn't seem to think so.”

  I cringe and his smirk widens. “She’s never been that smart.”

  “Must run in the family.”

  “At least we’re pretty.”

  “Your sister is. You look like you cut your hair yourself, while blindfolded.”

  “It’s called style, you should try it sometimes.”

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

  “Who says I sleep at night?”

  “Well, you sure as shit ain't getting laid.”

  I grind my teeth at his comment and his lips twitch. He’s hit the jackpot, but he’s also my best mate and knows that he can dig at me later. I have no doubt he will.

  “You doing ok?” The smirk falls away and the amusement in his face evaporates.

  I nod. I’m not. I’m sure Red will fill him in and I can have that conversation with him later.

  “Good, then invest in a better fucking barber.”

  “Stop buying so many scented candles.” I start walking away then stop and swivel back. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. You can ask, whether you’ll get an answer is another matter.”

  I roll my eyes at him and his smirk is back. I make a mental note to text Red some shit about him later and let her deal with him. “How did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “That Red was it?”

  I can see thoughts flutter around his head as he considers giving me shit, but thinks better of it. He shrugs, looks at the house then back to me, “Guess she was just the right shade.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  He ignores me and makes his way to his door. I guess our conversation is over.

  A Daryl Dark song belts out the radio, and I’m loath to listen to it and yet it draws me in. I know the lyrics and I watched this song being created and crafted. It’s strange to have it drift through my car now. It forces my mind to go places I don't want to go. Everywhere I go she haunts me. The song ends and I find myself sighing before the DJ goes on about tickets going up for sale to Daryl’s upcoming tour. It’s going to sell out in hours. The man blathers on and then I stumble over his words. A new opening act, an up-and-coming talent in the rock world that’s about to shake its foundations. Miss Emilia Stark. My heart seizes at the mention of the name. My heart ticks like it’s counting seconds. I shake my head. Can’t be.

  The light turns red and I come to a stop, the idle engine purrs beneath me. There's a man walking on the pavement, wearing a black beanie and torn oversized jeans. A cigarette hangs from his mouth. He’s carrying a big white bucket and a giant brush that looks more like a broom. He dips his brush into the bucket, smears the wall, then sticks up a poster on the already thick layers of aging, disintegrating paper and covers it with more glue before taking a sidestep and repeating the action.

  The posters advertise Daryl’s ‘Drowning in Darkness’ tour, but that’s not what has me staring. It's the opening act. Emilia Stark and that’s how she looks as she stares back at me from the poster. Dark eyeshadow and smokey eyes that make her look anything but shy and soft like I know she is.

  I take a minute piecing things together. Fuck, maybe Wolf had a point and I am a bit slow. Horns blare and I realise the traffic light has changed to green. I take off.

  Finally.

  I’ve found her.

  I drive straight to the office ignoring the questioning look I get from Rob. Why the hell is the guy always here? I glare back, his eyes dart away and fix on his screen. Good.

  I crash into my chair and turn on my monitor, my leg tapping the floor as the computer comes to life.

  I start with the socials. Emilia Stark is everywhere, profiles that were set up months ago. She looks fucking beautiful. Pictures of her in a studio, clips of her singing, glimpses of her when she isn’t looking at the camera, capturing the depth she carries behind her eyes. All her socials are professional, none of my online tools find a personal profile.

  I search Google. Hundreds of websites pop up. Suddenly she’s everywhere. I read through the first four. They all have the same version of the same story. Unknown origins, endorsed by Daryl Dark, propelled to greatness. The new debut single is to be released on Friday. The album cover strikes me.

  The title, spelt in big icy letters, jumps out. "Unrequi
ted" stares at me and I stare back before taking in the other subtle details. An animated heart lays almost pulverised on a sea of shattered glass. It’s a haunting image, I can almost feel that heart try to beat as it lays broken and dying. Beneath the glass written as if in marker with a rushed hand are the words "I wish you could have let go and fallen. It would have been an incredible adventure.” I stare at the cover for a few minutes, taking everything in. For some reason, it feels as though it’s talking to me.

  I shrug it off and click back to the main search page and skim a few more articles. This is going to take all day.

  I’m two hours in and bored of copy-pasted articles that give me no new information. I’m bombarded with pictures of her. Her face taunts me as it leers at me from across the screen. I’m still no closer to finding her now than I was two hours ago. I’m about to call every favour I am owed from every rich and arrogant person I’ve ever worked for when something catches my eye.

  An obscure fan site that’s only a week or so old. Poorly constructed and much of the same information, except for one glaring sentence that has my jaw finding the floor. I read over the words a few times like my mind can’t compute eight simple words.

  “Beloved daughter of legendary rock star Justin Legend.”

  I stare at the screen for a while. The shock drips through me like it’s been hooked into my veins. “That son of a bitch.” I whisper and grab my phone dialling his number.

  He picks up after the third ring “Hunter.”

  I can hear the smile in his voice, I’m about to wipe it away, just like I do when I’m around his fucking daughter. “You should have told me.”

  “My daughter and I have a complicated relationship.”

  “You fucked your best friend's wife and left her pregnant to raise a kid alone?”

  “Watch yourself, Hunter, we’re not friends!” I'm guessing the smile is gone.

  I bite my tongue and wait. He’s right of course, but I’m angry and I want to find Emily.

  He’s silent for a long time, “I’ve tried to make amends.”

  I scoff. “You still should have told me.”

  “What can I do for you, Hunter? I'm a busy man.” He’s dismissive and flippant and I’m the help. He doesn’t owe me an explanation.

  “Is she the real reason you wanted me there?”

  He remains silent.

  His non-answer irks me, but I have more pressing things to deal with now. “I want to see her.”

  “Well, she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to see you.” He doesn't sound like a rocker or a businessman anymore, he sounds like someone’s father that’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect his little girl. My heart pangs. What if her baby, our baby, is a girl?

  I grind my teeth. “I need to talk to her.”

  “Hunter, you’ve been good to me over the years, and I have returned the gesture, but you’re about to cross a line there is no coming back from.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek holding back an array of swearwords and insults I have prepared for this man. I inhale, swallowing them and pushing them down, “You owe me a favour.”

  “She’s off limits.”

  “No. I want three backstage passes to the opening gig for Mr Dark’s new tour.”

  “Hunter…” his voice carries a warning.

  “You owe me. I just want to enjoy the show.”

  He scoffs. I’ve done Justin’s personal protection many times over the last ten years, he is the king of loopholes, I know he appreciates mine.

  “Should I inform our mutual friend about these tickets?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure this is the favour you want? You know you can have so much more.”

  “Just the tickets.”

  “I’ll have my PA mail them to you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And Hunter?”

  “Yes sir?”

  “I haven’t been there for her much and our relationship is strained. But she’s still my daughter and if you break her heart, I will find a way to end you. I have bigger friends than you”

  “You can try,” I smirk and hang up and think about the piles of dirt I have on all of them.

  17

  Hunter

  Now that I know where she is, I see her everywhere. She follows me in the streets, on my phone, on my TV. She invades my car with her voice, and even my dreams aren’t free of her. Except that in them, she’s naked and in my arms and the sounds that she makes are only for me. I rip them from her red lips and own them.

  I wake up sweating and painfully hard. My gaze falls onto the calendar as it has every morning for the last four months. Just two weeks to go till I see her. The last few months have been excruciating. Having her so out of reach is like a slow and painful death. Like I’ve been left to bleed out, but the cut is so small it leaks out in tiny droplets that weaken me but never run out.

  I grab my phone, needing a distraction. Unable to find one. I’m irked by her—how she’s managed to flip my whole carefully constructed life upside down. I’m doing shit I've never done before. I'm turning down offers for sex and killing myself at work so I won’t have to think about her, just to have her song play at full volume and taunt me.

  But more than that, I find myself entertaining a future I shouldn't want, with a family I don’t even have. I get stupidly excited about it, about all the ifs. I’d take them for trips to the countryside and picnics in the park, and the movies and whatever else families do. I want this kid to have everything I didn't. But mostly love, cause they’d deserve that. I shut my eyes and push the thoughts away again. My feelings tangle in a wiry ball that tightens every time I try to unravel it.

  And now? I’m trying to find some grand-fucking-gesture in way of apology, and I’m back on LyricsIncognito.com searching for original song lyrics. I want to surprise her. Getting those other lyrics made her so happy.

  I input my usual search when something comes up. Original lyrics with handwritten notes, corrections, and connotations by one of her favourite artists. I remember how she went on about him one night. It was cute but annoying at the same time. I loved her passion, but man, it almost felt like she’d rather be there fucking him instead.

  I look at the already inflated price. Four bidders pushing up the cost. I place a bid that should let them know I’m serious then set the phone down and get in the shower.

  When I get back, I’m outbid. But not by much. I raise the price by five hundred quid and smirk to myself. No way anyone is getting those notes but me.

  The night drags on. More overdressed, over-made-up girls getting drunk and sucking cock in the bathroom in the pursuit of love. Sometimes I wonder if desperation makes them think a way to a man’s heart is through his cock. I shrug it off and cover for Rob as he asks for a code 22. Seems like he spends most of the night getting off with some girl. I guess with Wolf being off the market and my recent mood, he’s reaping the benefits.

  I check my phone again; the bidder upped the bid by another thousand quid. They are not fucking around. I grind my teeth and think about the lump of money Legend sent me for babysitting Daryl. Guilt money. I was going to use it to buy a second property. Fuck it. Money comes and goes, and Legend will throw more my way in time. I raise by a single pound. I don't have to make big bids; I just have to win.

  When I check again later, the bidder upped the bid by another grand. They’re obviously not playing and think they can win. They won't. I look at the auction time, five minutes. I call Rob and ask him to take over. He approaches with a smirk on his face and pulls up his fly.

  I hurry outside through the back door. Sam gives me a sideways look, seeing I stepped outside alone. I ignore him and keep walking. The door closes behind me and all that’s left is the muted beat that thumps through the bricks. I lean against them. The cold air stings my face as I stare at the countdown clock. I know I’m not the only one watching, but I have to be careful, slow, and subtle. If I pounce too soon, I'll lose. I watch the sec
onds fall away, big red numbers that count down. With five seconds to go I input my last bid and hold my breath. The clock stops at zero and I keep watching the screen for confirmation.

  I won. “Fuck yeah.” I pump my fist in the air like an idiot then correct and look around making sure no one saw me. As I'm about to head inside, my screen flashes. It’s a message from the other buyer.

  ‘Are you open to negotiating the sale of this item?’

  ‘No.’ I type back and shake my head.

  ‘I’ll pay you twice what you paid for it.’

  I sigh. ‘It's not for sale.’

  ‘Everything is for sale.’

  I ignore the message and tuck the phone back into my pocket. Not everything is. I have a stupid grin on my face for the rest of the night.

  18

  Hunter

  Later. I keep reminding myself. I will have to wait till later to wipe the smirk off Wolf’s face. He looks way too fucking pleased with himself watching me sweat like an idiot. Red is being reassuring and supportive, and as much as I love my sister, I wish she’d just shut the fuck up. I watch the raindrops as they race down the window and puddles form on the dark road as we race ahead.

  The drive to Liverpool has already felt like three lifetimes, especially with these two. The minute I shut the door behind me, I regretted letting Red talk me into carpooling with them. She spends almost the entire trip telling me what a fuck up I am and how this is my chance to rectify things, while Wolf keeps asking if I need a nap or some sweeties like the overgrown asshat he is. All the pair of them did was get me more revved up. My body feels like a ticking bomb. Every muscle tight and twisted, my blood surging through my veins, burning me up from the inside, and it’s all I can do to keep breathing through this nervous anticipation before I implode.

  As soon as Wolf parks, I’m out of the car leaving them in my wake. They have their tickets, they’ll catch up. I hear Red calling out to me and Wolf telling her to let me be. Raindrops fall on my head and slide down my face, cooling me down. With each step, they soak their way into my clothes till my shoulders feel damp and my pale blue jeans deepen to a darker hue. Typical weather in Liverpool.